


breakthrough

by hoxiel (orca_mandaeru)



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Anal Sex, Angst, Body Worship, Bunny Hybrid Han Jisung, Exploitation, Human Bang Chan, Hurt/Comfort, Hybrids, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Mentions of blood and violence, Post-Apocalypse, Rimming, Sex Work, mentions of guns, soft smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:27:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28023936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orca_mandaeru/pseuds/hoxiel
Summary: Even this cage of a world would never be enough to hold Han Jisung for long, and with Chan by his side, it doesn't stand a chance.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Han Jisung | Han
Comments: 8
Kudos: 92





	1. Chapter 1

Jisung leans forward, his palms lying flat against the cold edge of the sink. The row of lights along the edge of the mirror are off, his own face staring back at him dripping with shadow. He can still make out the shape of the makeup spread over his skin, the too-thick layer of blush over his cheeks and the pastel-pink shadow on his eyelids. It matches the tone on his lips, and he purses them out once, digging his teeth down into his bottom lip for a second to check the way it bounces back, glossy and pink and as appealing as possible. Satisfied, he takes a step back, flexing his frozen-stiff fingers.

  
  


His hair gets the same once-over, the undyed pink stands falling over his eyes. He reaches up to pat a stray part down, arranging one of his long, floppy, light brown ears more to the side of his head. His fingers idly drop to play with the jeweled rings pierced through the tips of his soft eartips, forcing himself to swallow despite how dry his mouth is.

  
  


He should really be more used to this by now. It's the same exact routine every single night, and he's been managing more than successfully for long years. It hadn't taken long to realize that the lab assistants had lied. He never got truly used to it, not in the slightest; the pit of cold dread and disgust never left his stomach, the very real fear of death or worse chasing at his heels. The anger never left, either, the smolder that kept him going, on his feet, doing whatever he needed to.

  
  


For a moment, Jisung wishes that Felix was here with him before scolding himself. There's a reason he's working tonight without the normal chaotic bustle of a dozen other hybrids around him, and it's nothing good.

  
  


The door to the little waiting room bangs open, his face scrunching up before he can steel himself, sensitive ears twitching at the loud noise. "Get out here." Nam says, silhouette taking up the entirety of the doorway. Jisung nods, automatically shifting into a different gear. The handler is a man of few words, and any one disobeyed is a serious offense. He can't stall any longer.

  
  


He stands up, the ancient metal chair letting out a grating squeak of long-rusted parts scraping together. This is one thing he has gotten used to, the jarring shift between the dull grey waiting room with its cracked walls and mold-spotted sink and the world he steps out into. The entertainment house front is an explosion of colors, vibrant jewel hues and the soft glow of the overhead neons washing over the impeccably clean walls. Only the best for the customers.

  
  


Nam is standing to the side, barely moving as always. "Room 27," is all he says, all that he has to. Careful not to make eye contact, Jisung bows shallowly. His walk changes as he goes as fast as he can in his heeled boots, taking on an energetic little bounce that leave his feet aching after hours. It may not be easy, but it's painfully familiar to slip into this, any individuality slipping away to a back corner of his mind, coaxing a fully-formed persona from scraps of truth. There's a reason he's stayed alive for this long. He's fucking good at this.

  
  


A bright smile spreads across his face as he slips into the staff door for meeting room 27, the human host glancing up and sighing in relief at his entrance. "Han, thank god you're here. It's Park Seojoon. I took their orders as quickly as possible, but they're already getting antsy." Jisung nods, patting the older woman's hand.

  
  


"Don't worry, I'll take care of them."

  
  


Technically, the hosts, all older, disenfranchised humans aren't allowed to talk to the hybrids. This one makes an effort, and Jisung could never tell her how much he appreciates being on the job and spoken to like a person for a few second, even though it's all pity he sees in her eyes.

  
His smile to her is smaller and more genuine, but he can't afford to have it on any longer as he pushes the door open. This particular private room is a little less garish than the rest, the furniture and paint all tasteful grays and navies. It serves its purpose in overemphasizing how much Jisung stands out, pink layered on more pink, legs cold and bare under his tiny skintight shorts as he bounces his way over to the table full of men in pressed black suits.

  
  


He feels the stares before he sees them, all seven heads at the table turning to him in an instant, burning through him down to his bones. Oh gods, Chan is one of them. _Don't look at him, don't look at him, don't look at him_. Jisung leans his elbows onto the table, casually interrupting the conversation, placing his weight so his back arches in a smooth curve up to his chest and widened eyes, ears drooping over his face.

  
  


“Oh, if it isn't my favorite bunny,” Park Seojoon drawls, directly across at the head of the table. Jisung knows not to look away from him, he's made that mistake before. The others, the lackeys, are just there to look upon and envy what their boss can afford.

  
  


He tilts his head and smiles, eyes darting bashfully away, voice lilting softly. “I missed you, sir. You left Sungie here all alone...”

  
  


The man laughs, slow and assured. “Oh please, I doubt you were alone for long.” He raises a hand, the gesture permission enough for a tiny bit of tension to relax from the others at the table. Jisung knows what it means as well, allowing himself to glance at the other men at the table, still studiously avoiding the one person he actually wants to see. “Today's a day for celebration.”

  
  


“Oh?” Jisung obligingly responds, mouth parting a little. He hears the bell ring from the kitchen before the man can answer, so he giggles and slides himself back up to a standing position, winking. “Tell me all the juicy details when I get back, kay?” He knows the shorts are short enough to ride up when he walks, his brown tail twitching out of discomfort that could be interpreted as anything else.

  
  


He doesn't say a word to the host back in the kitchen area, just thanking her quietly as he expertly balances all of the food and drink trays. It's been years since he dropped anything, the clumsiness trained out of him quick enough for the truly important guests such as these. He nudges the door open with his hip as he walks out again, carefully bending over and placing the food on the table.

  
  


One of the men at the table had shut up just as he walked out, and he can feel his eyes on him. A couple of the men he recognizes, ones who have been brought to business meetings like this before, but the most nervous ones are younger, most likely newcomers who could never dream of being able to afford a place like this. They've probably never even seen a hybrid up close before.

  
  


Seojoon takes a sip of his drink, savoring it, swilling his glass around thoughtfully before he beckons Jisung over with one finger. He gets over there as quick as possible without looking like he's caught off guard, a skill he's perfected over the years. A thick arm curls over his waist, dragging him until he's pressed all up against the man's side, his fingers pressing into his bare waist under his cropped sweater. Jisung's sensitive nose twitches, picking up on the overwhelmingly strong smell of expensive cologne clinging to him, the pungent undertones of gunpowder and blood.

  
  


“Today's a good day, pet,” the man says, hand sliding back to the small of his back. “The mayor and his pathetic attempts at a government are gone. We own this city now. Well, I do.” His fingers tug playfully at Jisung's cottonball tail. “I've got Chan over there to partly thank for this, I think his good gunwork deserves a promotion.”

  
  


Jisung thinks he might throw up, but suppressing the urge is another thing he's become an expert at. He can't squirm away, but he masks his attempt at dislodging the other by tilting his body closer, his ears brushing against the taller man's chin even while he's seated. His smile doesn't falter even as his stomach roils, turning to stare up at the boss with round, sparkling eyes filled with enthusiasm. “Congratulations!”

  
  


He can't think of anything more substantial than that, mind wiped blank from the unexpected mention of Chan, but Seojoon doesn't favor him for his words or intelligence. The man pauses, considering, hand wandering but thankfully not touching his tail again. Without warning he pushes Jisung away from him, who staggers just a bit in his heels but catches his balance smoothly and quickly. “Go give Chan a little attention. His lap looks a little lonely, hm?” He laughs, and Jisung steels himself to look just in time to catch Chan's shocked expression as he stares at his boss for a second before catching himself for the insolence and turning his eyes back to the table.

  
  


Jisung swallows hard, can't tune out and disappear from the situation like he usually does, pulling on his deep reserves of learned patience. He doesn't look at Chan's face as he swings his legs around his hips and settles onto his lap, acutely feeling the curious, prying gazes of the men around the table. Every millimeter of contact between him and Chan grabs his attention, pulling him tight with tension.

  
  


Seojoon laughs again. He's in a good mood today and Jisung couldn't be more thankful. He's been very careful to never be on the receiving end of the man's ire, but he's seen it, and it's never pretty. Especially when he's the one that needs to clean the blood off the tile floors. “What, never seen a hybrid before, Bang? Not even a gun in your face can scare you but a pretty little thing like that can?”

  
  


“No, sir, I haven't,” Chan says, tense and quiet. His voice is so familiar it reaches into Jisung's chest cavity and wraps around his pulsing heart. He rests his face in the man's collar, breathing in his heady resin scent, hating the way it resets and calms his body because he can't, he can't relax a second around these people.

  
  


With some stroke of luck, Seojoon leaves them alone after that, diving right into discussions of budgets, loyalties, subsidiary expenses and other things that Jisung has no bearing on. He knows how the boss's mind works by now, though, and many have died from underestimating the man. Everything is a game of loyalties and intimidation with him, finding the weak spots and pressing just hard enough. Neither he or Chan can waver, they can't reveal anything, they're too close to the finish line.

  
  


Thankfully, the actual meeting commencing gives him a little bit of a break. One of Chan's hands under the table wraps around his ankle, fingers digging deep to massage the spots he knows gets sore. Jisung closes his eyes and tries to toe the line between letting his brain wander and start overthinking or completely sinking into the warmth of Chan's embrace and lose track of his surroundings. There's still eyes on him, he can feel it, can always feel it, but the hands on him are safe, and that's enough for now.

  
  


Then he hears Seojoon's voice again. “Oh, looks like you two got quite comfortable.” Jisung freezes, breathing shallow. He can feel Chan tense under him as well, fake-laughing it off. There's no way he suspects anything more. “You know there's private rooms here? I'll give you an hour with him, my treat. You've practically made me a king, after all.”

  
  


Oh. _Oh._

  
  


Chan stammers out a solemn thanks to more amusement, undoubtedly some seething jealousy hidden well by the other men at the table. Jisung raises his head, making sure to give Seojoon that pout he's so fond of. “You've never gotten a private room with me,” he simpers. It's a dangerous gamble, but Jisung is an old hand at taking risks.

  
  


It pulls through, obviously leaving the man more at ease. “Now, now, pet. I'm quite the busy man, you understand. Don't think I won't be buying whole nights from you once I've got all of this city under my thumb.”

  
  


_You'll never fucking touch me ever again_ , Jisung spits in his head, outward expression brightening. He gives a sweet little wave as the man gets up, leaving his plate of insanely expensive delicious food picked apart and wasted on the table. The other men take his cue to leave as well, three of them shooting him venomous looks, the others leering obviously.

  
  


Jisung bats his eyes at them as they file out and he slips off of Chan's lap, grabbing his wrist and tugging him along, avoiding eye contact as he opens the nondescript door at the far end of the room.

  
  


He slams the door behind him, crumpling forward into Chan's arms, hands clinging at his back and pulling him close so hard it hurts his heart. “Chan,” Jisung breathes, embarrassed by how quickly his eyes tear up. “Fuck, I can't believe you're here.”

  
  


Chan's arms wrap around his back, catching him when he falls as always, gathering him up and squeezing him with true desperation. “God, Jisung, I-- I'm so sorry.”

  
  


Jisung's weight on him makes him stagger backwards, using the momentum to walk together back towards the sleek black leather couch in the middle of the room. “What do you have to be sorry for, huh?” he says, a little too aggressively. Chan's knees hit the couch and he sits back on it, Jisung falling forward into his lap. He's about to relax completely into the comforting warmth when his good sense catches him. “Wait, wait, Chan. There's cameras.”

  
  


“The fuck?” Chan sits up, glaring where Jisung subtly nods at. “Even in here?” Ultra gently, he shifts Jisung's weight off his lap and onto the couch, standing up and peeling his jacket off.

  
  


Jisung huffs, jaded. “You think there's any boundaries in this place?” He can see a tendon in Chan's jaw twitching as the man swings his jacket over the little camera embedded in the knob of the desk against the wall.

  
  


“They won't punish you if I'm the one that covers it, right?”

  
  


Jisung nods towards the second camera, right across the couch for the best view. “Nah, I don't think so. No one would risk getting on Seojoon's bad side.” Chan grabs a tacky decorative pink pillow and covers the second camera with it, before turning around and marching back to stand in front of Jisung. He stares up at him for a moment, let his eyes feast as he so rarely can.

  
  


Chan has grown since they last actually saw each all of each other around six months ago, more muscled, the shadows clinging to his eyes deepened. One thing is constant, though, and that's the overwhelming amount of fondness and relief spilling from his gaze as he drinks in Jisung in turn. His movements are almost hesitant as he approaches, eyes darting across his figure. He inevitably takes notice of the way Jisung is tapping his feet, a consistent habit he's picked up to try and rid the ache in his heels that is only permissible because the patrons think it's cute.

  
  


Chan sighs as he reaches forward to gently unlace the strings on the heeled boots, blinking furiously as he gazes up at Jisung. “I'm getting us out of here, you know that? Soon. Seojoon's already planning to put his people at the gates in a few days, it's part of his plan to take over. That'll be our chance.”

  
  


Jisung doesn't smile, because after hours, days, years of doing exactly that, it's more of a celebration to keep his face neutral. He nods simply, breath hitching at the good ache as Chan's fingers dig into a particularly bad knot in his foot. He reaches down to gently guide Chan's face up closer to his, hands shaking but feeling more relaxed than ever as he leans in to his ear. “Keep your voice down. I wouldn't put it past them to put microphones in here as well. Whispering should be fine.”

  
  


Chan's eyes widen, and before he inevitably feels guilty for not thinking, Jisung stands up. Chan isn't that tall for a human, but Jisung still has to stretch up as far as he can to get to his ear. “We'll talk about the details later, okay? The usual spot.” Chan nods, his breath ghosting across his cheek with the proximity.

  
  


Jisung closes his eyes and breathes in slow, turning them and gently pushing Chan's chest so that he falls back and they're in the same position as before, Jisung settled comfortably across his legs. His hands land on Chan's broad shoulders, his own inching up towards his ears. He fucking hates this. He still can't relax, let his guard down, not even a second with the only person in this godforsaken world he truly trusts. Chan doesn't ask if he's okay, knows that's useless. He just lets him exist, take his time, like he always does, and for that Jisung is infinitely grateful.

  
  


He raises his eyes and sighs, hands coming up to stroke his thumbs over Chan's cheeks. It's so strange that he can touch him like this, casually like he's always wanted to, ever since he first heard Chan's cracking prepubescent voice outside the stuck-open window of the dorms at the lab. They've subsided on hearing for so long, endless hours spent pressed on either sides of various walls, trading stories and wisps of dreams of anything better, any semblance of an idealistic life where choices were theirs to make.

  
  


It's so hard, to hold back the anger all the time. It licks at his ribcage, threatening to roar into his heart at any moment, when he's trying and failing to sleep, in the dressing rooms, any time he talks to Chan. It jumps now, igniting his lungs on his next breath. “They'll never win,” he says, voice flat and leagues away from what has become his default attitude in this place.

  
  


Chan's fire is just as strong as his, yet outwards, expelling out of him with every shot of his gun and ruthless action he takes to climb to this amount of respect in the biggest faction in the city, all for them. With Jisung, all of that is dampened, the regret and sorrow and earth-steady determination all that remains. “I won't let you down,” he responds, one hand coming up to mirror Jisung's on his cheek, his eyes damp as they continue roving over his face.

  
  


“I know you won't. I trust you,” Jisung says, leaning down and pressing his forehead to Chan's, whose breath hitches under him. After all, he knows better than anyone else alive how much that is coming from him. “Enough of this. I don't wanna be sad, we haven't seen each other in so long.”

  
  


A distraction is enough, sometimes. It's what really got him through those first few years at this place, the rare times they could press against opposite sides of a wall or hang out a window to feel something other than dread and numbness for at least a few minutes. Jisung leans back, the impact really hitting him that they're here, together, in person, touching each other and speaking freely with no eyes watching. Chan has only been a guest here once before, and that was when he was a little lower in the pecking order of the organization, not enough to warrant entrance to a private room. Jisung could sneak glances at him through the throng of people but nothing more, bustling around and serving a dozen tables while his coworkers flirted openly with him.

  
  


“I can't believe I get to touch you,” he says out loud, swallowing, hands cupping Chan's cheeks. He pinches them, smiling soft and genuine for the first time in who knows how long at the squishy pout it makes.

  
  


Chan is looking at him almost unbearably intensely, unlimited care and affection written across his face that is almost a little too vulnerable. “It's been a while, huh?” he says once Jisung's curious hands have released him, wandering down to rest on his shoulders.

  
  


“Not since these were a lot smaller,” Jisung comments, giving his arms a squeeze. Chan picks up on what he wants, always does, keeping his own hands at his side and letting Jisung explore. He doesn't follow a pattern, jabbing his fingers into Chan's side to finally find out if he's ticklish or not before returning to his face to tug curiously at his human ears.

  
  


“How long do we have in here?” Chan asks.

  
  


Jisung doesn't stop his exploration, flicking aside Chan's collar to peer at his collarbones. “Um, forty-five minutes?” he sighs, hands flopping back down in his own lap. That usually feels like an unbearably long amount of time in this room, tense and waiting for it to end the entire time, sweating from the heat of the room and eyes on him. Now, he can't bear to think of how quick it'll go by. Chan cups his face gently, causing him to raise his eyes.

  
  


“Would you be okay with me kissing you?”

  
  


Jisung stills for a moment. He doesn't know. The idea of anyone, even Chan, touching his tail makes him feel positively nauseous. It's something that makes him even angrier, that even if and when he's out of here the fucking people here will still have laid an unwanted claim to his skin. He nods slowly. “Try.” It's not like the people that usually see him often have any interest in trying to kiss him at all, let alone gently, after all.

  
  


Chan searches his eyes, supporting his head ever so gently as he leans in, giving Jisung plenty of time to inhale and prepare himself. Chan's lips touch his and he doesn't know what he was expecting but it's exactly what it is, warm, soft, simple contact against him. Jisung's eyes squeeze closed, his fingers digging into Chan's shoulders. The kiss is practically nothing, just skin pressed together. So why does it feel like his heart is collapsing in on itself?

  
  


“Jisung?” Chan pulls away, worried. “Oh gods, I'm sorry.”

  
  


Jisung blinks his eyes open, surprised himself at the tears running down his cheeks as he shakes his head, fingers sliding up behind Chan's neck. “No, no, it's not you. Please, do that again.”

  
  


Chan just looks at him for a moment, thumb stroking his cheek, before he decides to trust him in return and quietly leans in again. This time, Jisung responds nearly desperately, fingers tangling in Chan's cropped hair and pulling him flush. Chan follows his lead as their lips move together, soft and all-encompassing, in sync even though they've never really done this before. It's like the pressure of the past whole decade has built up behind his eyes, finally bursting out and pouring out sticky and damp between their cheeks.

  
  


Jisung has been very careful to train himself out of getting near any self-pitying thoughts; he could never survive here for years constantly thinking of what he would, could, should have. Fuck that. Fuck everyone in this hopeforsaken city, all festering at heart, revolving around the pain of people like him turned into a tourist attraction. This is just a fraction of what's been taken from him, he can't even kiss the man he loves without being terrified of the certain death that would follow if anyone found out.

  
  


The next paltry small amount of time is for them, and only them, spent simply indulging in each other's presence, affirmations and long-familiar dreams passed between their lips between kisses. When the automatic lights ahead flare on, Jisung's stomach sinks lower than it has in a very long time. Chan squeezes his hand hard before he catches himself and apologizes, staring at him like he would still see him even if they were a thousand miles away.

  
  


“So, this is it,” Jisung says weakly, trying and failing to sound anything but devastated.

  
  


Chan pulls him close one last time, arms wrapping around his back, chin resting on his head, solid and warm against him. “Less than a week left. Four days. Please, don't lose hope. We're almost there, I promise.” it seems impossible, that something they've been dreaming about for their entire lives could actually happen, but there's no option other than trusting Chan.

  
  


“Okay.” Jisung says simply, taking a deep breath and wiping his damp face. There's no danger of him crying again for a while, he's all dried up, fire burning him up from the inside again and evaporating them. “I'll do my part.”

  
  


Chan pulls back, and they shake hands firmly, like business partners. His limbs feel so weighted down and heavy when he stands up again, skin crying out for that warmth and comfort again. He swallows and sucks it up, watches as Chan laces his boots back up for him before standing up and twining their hands together.

  
  


“We can do this.” He says as they stand behind the door, Jisung steeling his mind. It's going to be so much harder to slip into his work persona these next few days. He can do this, for Chan, for himself, for everyone else like him in this whole city. He nods, and they step out of the room together, hands pulling apart but closer than ever before.

  
  


***

  
  


Four days later, Jisung has been practically vibrating the entire day, hands clammy and stomach covered in a thin sheen of cold sweat under the skintight top he's wearing. He had gotten three separate warnings from the handler, more than he's been careful to amass in years, to the point where he'd gotten dragged away into the hallway for a brief, distracted talking-to. Jisung had simply stared at the ground and nodded until it was done, his resolve in putting up with this shit draining out of him like water through a sieve.

  
  


Somehow, through a blend of faceless men and women laughing and staring at him with wandering hands, the day is over. Every second that passes the lump of fear settling deep in his stomach grows, every single possibility of what could go terribly, terribly wrong swirling in the back of his mind. There's nothing he wants more than to get away from here, that'll never change, but what if he can't handle it? He's never had to deal with any of the details humans do to live, he doesn't even know what it's like to be totally in charge of your own life, how is he supposed to suddenly be self-sufficient? He doesn't want to rely too much on Chan, who has already structured his whole life around him.

  
  


His plan was to slip away from everyone else in the bustle of all the resident hybrids heading back to their rooms from the dingy cafeteria, but one particular thought keeps nagging him. So instead, he blends in with the crowd as best he can, all heading to the various cramped rooms of the living area. He still stands out, as if there's a barrier around him, various others tucking in their elbows to avoid touching him, poorly-hid sideways glances. No matter what he tries, he gets no sympathy. He's the favorite, and in the other's eyes, privileged, for how many important clients order him specifically and tip him paltry amounts with a condescending offer to buy himself something sweet.

  
  


He doesn't blame the other hybrids. They're all just trying to survive here, in a place none of them deserve to be in. Jisung slips into his own room and closes the door behind him, sighing. The rickety metal bunk bed frames are familiar shadows in the darkness, movement shifting in the bottom bunk. “Jisung?”

  
  


He sighs, feeling the odd sensation of being reassured and more stressed at the same time. “Hey, Lix. Why are you here already? Did you eat?”

  
  


The kitty hybrid has much better night vision than him, but Jisung can still make his way around the room better than a human could, heading first to the closet as is his routine. He peels off his uncomfortably tight clothes, grimacing as his shorts catch on his tail. It feels so much better to be in one of the oversized, stained shirts they wear when cleaning or doing other labor around the building, leaving him in just underwear and thick warm socks otherwise.

  
  


“Nah, I served that older woman today, you know the one. I must have eaten half of her meal.”

  
  


Normally, Jisung would casually congratulate him for scoring a meal leagues better than what they usually get in the cafeteria, but his brain is already too burdened with the knowledge of what's going to happen tonight to allow any of that. He's just so tired, of how they're treated, how much better he knows in his body and soul Felix deserves. So he doesn't respond, just pads over to the bed, slipping in and into Felix's welcoming arms as he's done so many times.

  
  


He will always be endlessly grateful for meeting Felix, the only good thing that's come out of this place. To be honest, he's one of the only reasons he's held on for so long. Felix doesn't try to ask what's wrong, just sighs and pulls him close, fluffy white tail curling over his back. Jisung's hands clench in his shirt and he breathes out, exhaling until some of the clutter in his brain quiets at least a little bit.

  
  


His head is buried under his chin, slowly relaxing bit by bit. Felix's hands rub up and down his back, eyes still open and staring at him, he can feel it. “You're leaving, aren't you?”

  
  


Jisung blinks, head popping up. “What?”

  
  


Felix takes the opportunity to make eye contact with him, really look at him, eyes wide and sorrowful but with a small smile. “It's ok, Jisung, I knew it would come some day. You would never be this reckless unless you knew you were getting out soon.”

  
  


Jisung swallows, searching his face. He never wanted to keep anything from felix, the one other person he's genuinely opened up too, but there's always been too much risk. He doesn't seem to be hurt, but that doesn't stop Jisung's heart from constricting. “Lix...” he starts, not knowing where in the world to start.

  
  


Felix opens his mouth to reassure him again but Jisung presses a hand to his chest, shaking his head. “I need to tell you this.” He's been piecing together what he'd say to anyone he grew to care about here for the past five years at least, discarding all of them and always chickening out in the end. Now, he struggles to patch together the most important parts. “Yes, I'm leaving. Tonight, hopefully. But believe me, I am not leaving you, or anyone else here, behind.”

  
  


Felix blinks at him now, ears swiveling, his palms still steadying on his back. “Jisung, I wouldn't blame you for leaving. One person getting out of here will always be better than nothing, you have to do what you have to do. Besides, how could you help the rest of us?”

  
  


Jisung shakes his head softly, his hands creeping up to pet through Felix's soft hair, something that has always comforted him in his worst moments. “No, I can, Felix, I promise. I've got a plan. I'm... not alone in this.”

  
  


Felix's eyes widen more, lips parting. “Someone's helping you? Outside of here? You trust them?” Jisung nods slightly and Felix pulls him close, squeezing him tight and nuzzling the top of his head. “Gods, I'm so happy for you.”

  
  


Jisung allows a small smile to spread across his face; he could never take Chan for granted, but sometimes he forgets how incredibly blessed he is to have anyone outside of this cesspool of a situation, someone who he can actually rely on and simply talk to. “Yeah, it's... I don't even know how I managed all this. But I promise, just wait a little while and I'll find a way to get you out of here. I'll never stop trying.”

  
  


He pretends not to notice the wetness of Felix's eyes against his cheek, almost feeling sorry for giving him new hope. He knows how excruciating that can be, but this just means he can't let himself fail in his goal. “Thank you,” Felix breathes in shakily, pulling back and pressing a firm kiss to his cheeks.

  
  


They spend the next few hours like they did the first few months they were here, roommates with a dozen other hybrids in the large room, clicking immediately and clinging to each other for some semblance of support and comfort when everything was overwhelming and new in the worst ways, talking quietly just for the sound of someone else's voice in the dark night.

  
  


Felix is drifting off when the regulated light levels shut off all the way. Jisung takes in the opportunity to study his face so there's no chance of forgetting it, his silvery furred ears nestled in his hair, the smattering of pretty freckles over his cheeks. He presses a soft kiss to his forehead and slips out of his arms, climbing back down from the top bunk. He knows the schedule of staff checkups like the back of his hand at this point. At least fifteen minutes until the next one. He's free to slip out of the room and peer left and right down the hall, making sure there are no other hybrids up and in the halls.

  
  


There's no security cameras here, cut for budget considering there are multiple near every entrance and exit. Jisung won't have to worry about that, making his way down the hallway pressed against the wall in the pitch black, counting the doors he feels until he gets to the tenth one, praying that it's unlocked and he won't have to waste more time. It is, and he sighs deep as he slips inside and closes the door. It's cold here, and nearly too dark for even his eyes to see at all, but he's spent enough time here to know his way around.

  
  


No one else ever uses this room anyway, the old dressing room used as storage for old out-of-favor outfits. He runs his fingers through the hanging clothes. Never in his life has he thought that there would be a time where he would be considering the best outfit to break out of the city in. It's more significant than he had expected, though, picking out his own clothes to actually go outside unsupervised for the first time.

  
  


He digs out his precious finds, clothes that he could never imagine the house letting them wear out in public. It's so relieving to pull the baggy black hoodie over his head, loose and comfortable like he's far from used to, tugging the hood up and tucking his ears flat until they're completely hidden. His fingers ghost over a few options before he grabs a black skirt made of thick fabric that sticks out, pulling it up over his boxers and sighing in satisfaction at the way it falls to his knees and spreads out, leaving no hint or imprint of his tail underneath.

  
  


Jisung takes a few moments to grab the most sturdy boots he can find and lace them up, the silence echoing around him. He's not used to this much quiet, at all, and it's both nice and excruciating at the same time. There's no one else around, no one to impress or put on a show on or feel any pressure at all for, but that also means there's nothing to distract him from his racing thoughts and doubts, all the things that could go wrong in the next few hours.

  
  


There's no way he could ever hesitate in the decision to leave this place, but his steps have slowed. He might not be happiest in the slightest here, but at least he'll be almost definitely alive. Taking this risk and getting caught means he won't be able to help anyone. But on the off chance that this works out...

  
  


He needs to remember Chan. Jisung trusts him, more than he does himself at this point, so he needs to show that and play his part. It's been a little while since he's been down here, the season getting busier as he volunteered for more jobs to bolster his cover, so the little bruises and scrapes on his joints have healed by now. He's too used to them to be bothered by it, though, squeezing behind the rows of clothing racks and searching blindly for the little metal handle.

  
  


He pulls it open, trying to breath slow and steady and calm his nerves and remember that he hasn't died doing this any of the dozens of times previously. Feet first, supporting himself on the edge of the metal square laundry chute, he gently lowers his legs all the way in. He shifts on his stomach and holds his weight up by his hands, muscles straining as he carefully closes the door to the chute behind him before letting go.

  
  


Jisung clenches his teeth and tries not to scream as he hurtles down the metal chute, elbows and knees banging against the sides before it flattens out and he tumbles out the end. He's arranged a few old dusty cushions and blankets here so he doesn't scrape his knees and palms up like he had the first time, taking a moment to collapse onto them and catch his breath. He pulls his hood back up and adjust his waistband, jumping up and pulling down the old chain used to turn the dim yellow tube lights on.

  
  


This place must have been around and abandoned long before the building was turned into the entertainment house it is today, because when he first found this place it was caked with dust, empty but for some old baskets and debris. He had been surprised at first that none of the other hybrids in the house had ever seemed to have discovered it, but really, it made sense. There's a reason he's only close to Felix, he knows he makes the other hybrids uncomfortable with his casual behind-closed-doors derision of their handlers and talk of the world outside. He doesn't blame them, he would have been terrified to hear of what he could never have if he hadn't had more taste of the outside than most since childhood.

  
  


Ever since he found it three years ago it's slowly been taken over by his presence. A handful of outfits he's nicked from the old storage room are neatly folded in one old basket, any little trinkets given to him that he thought could be useful in the future strewn around. The most notable additions to the room, however, is by far the hoverbike lying on its side in a separate corner of the room, surrounded by tools and parts.

  
  


First things first, Jisung climbs onto the counter, reaching up to work a loose brick out of the wall, pulling out the thick wad of bills. The hybrids at this place don't get paid, never have, but many clients have a fondness for pressing bills into their hands and waistbands to see them pay them a little more attention, inflate their own egos. If it's visible the handlers will take it the moment they're in the halls, but it's relatively easy to stuff a few bills down your shorts or shirt. A blind eye is turned most of the time, after all, where would any of them spend it?

  
  


There's a reason Jisung has become one of the favorites of the house. He gets more tips than anyone else, squirreled away every day for years until he has enough to contribute all that he can. Transportation was always one of the most looming issues over their possible escape; all modes of are heavily regulated and tagged. No one without a faction-owned vehicle is allowed exit from the city, and anyone attempting to leave on foot would be hopelessly outrun.

  
  


Luck had struck at the perfect time when Chan had been working his way higher in the faction's ranks, given a crashed bike to take to the recycler. Chan had taken the opportunity to smuggle it to this secret little back room, and Jisung's tips had paid for spare parts.

  
  


It's finally fully repaired, through pilfered instruction manuals and books and much, much trial and error. Working on it has always been a cathartic experience for Jisung, though, sneaking down here and getting his normally pristine hands and clothes covered in oil and rust, the quiet and isolation far from the environment of the house above. The bike is familiar under his hands as Jisung stands it up, wheeling it over to the outline of the simple metal door in the far corner of the room.

  
  


Now, he waits. There's no windows in here, no way to tell how late it's getting, and all he can do is back up against the wall and slide down to the floor, wrapping his arms around his legs and placing his chin on his knees. The room seems so big around him, the normal comfort of the privacy gone with the possibility of everything he's ever wanted coming true hanging over his head.

  
  


His thoughts are just starting to spiral away from him again when a sound makes his head fly up. Footsteps, right outside the door. As quiet as possible, Jisung stands up and creeps over to stand at the door, pressing his ear against it. A series of knocks reverberate just on the other side, a long and short taps interspersed in a complicated pattern, going on for a few minutes straight. Jisung pays attention to each, running the memorized pattern through his head until it ends, completely accurate. He unlocks the door, waiting to melt into Chan's arms again before he really looks at him. He looks like hell, bags under his eyes, dirt and blood smeared across his face and jacket.

  
  


“Chan,” Jisung breathes, shaky, pulling him in and slamming the door behind him, hands quivering as he instinctively presses against his body, searching for any sign of pain. “What's going on? Is this yours? Are we safe? Come on, talk to me.”

  
  


Chan is panting, eyes glued to his face, hands coming up to wrap around Jisung's wrists and squeeze them gently, legs giving out under him as he slides down the closed door to crumple on the floor. “I-I'm okay, Ji.” he gets out. “It's not mine. It's...” he looks away for the first time, fingers twitching on Jisung's wrist. “I killed Seojoon.”

  
  


“You what?” Jisung inhales, not even being able to wrap his head around the concept. Seojoon has always been untouchable, an ironclad obstacle, wrapped in layers deep of defenses both physical and mental. Chan laughs, the sound devoid of all humor, leaning forward and resting his forehead against Jisung's shoulder.

  
  


“He actually trusted me. It was too easy, the guards weren't around for a minute and I got him just like that. I had so much control by the end. Believe me, everything he built will fall.”

  
  


Jisung gently holds on to Chan's shoulders, pushing him back a little, looking him in the eyes. “Fuck,” he mutters simply. He has no idea what he's feeling right now, all swirling around inside of him. He thought he would be purely relieved without this boulder hanging over him, but all the knee-jerk fear hasn't disappeared. He doesn't have time to figure out what all of this means for him and for the both of them, though, they need to go. After this, the fate waiting for them will be worse than death.

  
  


He gets up, grateful that the decades-old simple rusty sink faucet still works, grabbing the most clean rag laying around to soak it in water and bring it back. Chan seems to have snapped a little bit out of his haze, thanking him softly and wiping the blood off of his face. Jisung's fingers tap against the concrete floor as he watches Chan take off his jacket and turn it inside-out, the tension in the air pulling tight.

  
  


“The bike's all ready, I just need to get some things together,” Jisung murmurs, standing up and squeezing Chan's shoulder, taking comfort in the freedom of touch he's allowed now. He already has a sneaked-in duffel bag stuffed with the bare essentials, slipping his excess money alongside the simple clothes. He looks up to see Chan running his hands along the bike, checking the gas, testing the handles. Jisung slings the bag over his shoulder and stands behind him, weight shifting from side to side.

  
  


Chan turns around, staring at him again, gaze unbearably vulnerable and hungry in a way, hanging in the air for a moment before they both move at the same time, crashing together. For a blissful moment he isn't thinking about anything at all, crushed against Chan's chest, the older man holding him like he might disappear, chin resting on the top of his head. They rock side by side for a few moments, simply breathing together.

  
  


Chan gently pulls his head back and Jisung looks up at him, blinking at the wetness in his eyes. “I love you,” he says, soft but resolute. Jisung's breath hitches, staring deep into Chan's warm brown eyes. This is the first time he's ever heard those words from him face-to-face, without any barriers between them.

  
  


“I love you too,” he says, the words simple but encompassing so much, feeling a little bit too much like a goodbye with what might happen to them out there. It feels freeing, though, something he's always carried with him to light up the dark moments escaping from the fragile cavity of his chest and out in the open. Chan's hand cups his cheek, leaning in slow and easy to kiss him soft and sweet. Jisung's face follows him when he pulls back, heart aching at the little smile he gets.

  
  


“Are we ready for this?”

  
  


Jisung huffs. “Will we ever be?”

  
  


Chan can't deny that, letting go of him and slinging his leg over the seat of the bike. “There's no going back now.”

  
  


Jisung swallows, slinging the duffel bag over his shoulder and settling on the hoverbike seat behind Chan, smoothing down the back of his skirt to make sure the bump of his tail really isn't noticeable before wrapping his arms around the waist in front of him.

  
  


Chan squeezes Jisung's hand before focusing his attention on the controls, switching it on. The gas hums to life, lights slowly glowing brighter, the bike straightening up and lifting them a few inches off the ground. A bare few feet and they're out, actually out in the open.

  
  


Jisung blinks up at the sky, the huge expanse drawing his eyes. He's only ever seen the clear night sky from the limited space of a windowpane, a few times when he was a child on supervised field trips out of the lab. Never like this, fully unfolding out under his greedy eyes. It's not pitch black as he had expected, with a light grey film hanging low in the sky, only a couple bright points of stars shining through the gloom of light and air pollution.

  
  


But the moon is still right there, not quite full but curved outwards, shining silver and strong above the city just as it has been for thousands and thousands of years, all the way back to a time where people like him only existed in fantasy, when the world was lush and full of life.

  
  


“It's beautiful,” Jisung breathes. They're in a dingy back alleyway, but Chan doesn't laugh at him, just turns his head and smiles unbearably fondly.

  
  


“There's so much I want to show you,” he says, revving the engine just enough to get them going, taking easy control. Jisung lays his chin on the shoulder in front of him, one hand flying up to keep his hood in place over his ears, staring with wide eyes as they get closer to the main streets. There's so much he's trying to take in at once around him, the buildings that grow up to the clouds, the radiant billboards nearly burning his eyes at every corner, the transport drones whizzing overhead.

  
  


The most amazing thing, though, is just how many people there are, normal, regular citizens going about their everyday business, probably actually living a life working, earning money, finding hobbies, raising a family. That kind of life always sounded like a fairy tale, something that Chan told him about through hushed whispers, painting a picture that neither of them could fathom. Jisung knows they're inconsequential in the crowd, but he can't shake the paranoia that everyone milling on the sidewalks is staring at them, eyes burning through his clothes and pointing him out as something other to them.

  
  


They're awfully foreign to him as well, now that he thinks about it. He doesn't even know the first thing about talking to non-clients, and he doesn't even know what regular people think of people like him.

  
  


Jisung buries his head further into Chan's back and sighs, watching the buildings get lower and lower, the lights getting slightly dimmer. And then he sees the wall, rising up dozens of feet above the tops of the buildings, made of an unholy amount of concrete and metal, riddled all the way through with guard posts, monitoring equipment, and outlook stations.

  
  


It's riveting in the worst way, a long-term disaster you can't look away from. Chan starts slowing down, staring at the end of the road ahead, thick bulletproof glass doors allowing them a peek into the outside world. There's four guards posted, two on each side, obviously bored and leaning tiredly against the wall, rifles leaning against the wall beside them as they whittle away their shifts by gossiping.

  
  


Chan's shoulders tense under him as they notice them approaching, picking up their weapons to be at the ready. The bike comes to a stop and Jisung stays very still as all four of the guards surround them, expressionless with the heavy black plastic helmets. “Oh, Chan. What business you got out here? Last I heard, boss had you chained to the desk doing paperwork.”

  
  


At least the news of Seojoon's death hasn't spread just yet, or they'd be fucked. Jisung watches quietly, trying his best to be invisible like he's gotten so good at, fascinated by the minute changes in Chan's expression and posture, eyes stone-cold and radiating confidence with a touch of arrogance. “He caught wind of some dealings going on just outside, the sneaks. Gave me the pleasure of going out to take care of it myself, if you know what I mean.” He flips his pass out, the guards scanning the complicated signature there.

  
  


The only response it gets is a nod, and for a moment, Jisung thinks they might get out of here just like that, when the feeling of eyes prickling over him comes back. “And who's this pretty thing?”

  
  


Jisung blink slowly, trying not to react too much one way or another. Chan laughs, nothing like he's ever heard him before, cruel and haughty. “Gets pretty lonely out there, boys. I'm sure you understand.” His stomach roils unpleasantly as the guards all laugh at him, patting Chan on the back as they wave him through. Jisung doesn't think he could move even if he wanted to as the doors slide open and they start moving again, every inch closer they get like a mile to freedom.

  
  


And then the bike moves forward, no outside fanfare as it clears the wall. They're out, and Jisung is staring at a huge expanse of land the likes of he would never even be able to imagine, flat, open ground as far as the eyes can see. The sky unfolds above them, more stars visible every second his eyes are glued to it, the wind blowing over them and ballooning with joy in his chest.

  
  


Chan revs the bike all the way, until they're going so fast the hood flies off Jisung's head, but he doesn't care, there's no one around in sight, the wall quickly disappearing behind them. Chan quickly reaches back and squeezes his hand, pouring all the reassurance he can into it.

  
  


The wind is too loud around them to speak, but he squeezes his hand back in response. They drive at full speed past the time the wall has completely disappeared from sight before Chan slows to a stop, placing his foot on the ground and slipping off. Jisung follows, and both of them turn to each other and crumble to the ground at the same time, falling into the dust with their arms around each other. “We did it,” Jisung says, still incredulous, the wind against his face and freedom in the clear air too good to be true. “We're here, we're out--” He takes the opportunity to scream like he never has before, the sound whipping away in the wind as he turns around and falls back down.

  
  


Chan clings onto him, shaking just a little bit, but he's smiling, wide and unfettered like he's never seen. “I couldn't have done it without you.” His expression becomes serious again, as he reaches up and strokes Jisung's cheek reverently. “I'm sorry, for what I had to say back there.”

  
  


Jisung shakes his head and takes his chin in hand, staring into his eyes. “It's alright, it was necessary. I know you love me.” He leans in, pressing their lips together softly at first, their lips dry and cracked but still so perfect. Neither of them can seem to pull away, wrapped up together getting covered in dust, panting into each other's mouth, the rush of freedom and sensation running through his veins.

  
  


Chan finally has the fortitude to pull away just a little bit, resting their foreheads together, hands resting on his waist. “There's an outlaw base a few hours' ride out. I know a couple people there, we can get shelter and enough to start again.”

  
  


Jisung nods, eyes trailing up to the moon right above them now, unrestrained by skyscrapers or smog. Nothing will trap him now, either. It doesn't feel real, but thinking about it, a laugh bubbles up in his chest, spilling out in uncontrolled giggles. It's infectious, and soon enough, he and Chan are rolling around the dirt clutching each other and laughing out of pure joy, like neither of them ever have in their entire lives.

  
  


They end up sitting side-by-side in total, comfortable silence, gazing out over the flat lands as the wind whips their hair, the minutes whittling away without a care.

  
  


It's alright. They have all the time in the world now.


	2. Chapter 2

The pockmarked door to the office closes behind the messenger, leaving Chan sitting at his makeshift desk and staring at the papers in front of him. The material is slightly crumpled and stained, and he smooths out the surface reverently, leaning closer to make out the words penciled over it. Just from the material Chan knows it has to be from one of his precarious associates still in the city, someone deep enough in the underbelly of the place that any electronic communication would be too dangerous.

  
  


His fingers curl into a fist against his thigh as he reads, throat working around a dry swallow. He pushes the paper away and leans back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling as he tries to process it. The time has come. It's been months, over six, since he's last set foot in the city, but that doesn't mean all of his presence has left it. Everything he's spent his entire life setting up, every connections and taken opportunities, are coming to a head.

  
  


Those pins he set up, sweat and tears and blood shed to snake his influence throughout the very foundation of the chain of command of the city, can only fall down in the right way if everyone does their part perfectly. He should be happy that the wait is finally over, that everyone in the city they left behind will hopefully have a chance for a better life, and he is, really. But so many moving parts make him more than anxious, especially after decades of relying on no one except himself and Jisung. The immediacy of the situation adds another weight to the pressure crushing his shoulders, close to physically restricting his breathing. If they fuck this up, everything will be blown, they'll have no other chance, and it'll be all his fault as the leader of this whole expedition.

  
  


His nails dig into his thighs, shoulders tensed. He knows what he needs to do. Chan carefully tucks the sheaf of papers away on the shelf next to the desk, already stacked full with binders and copies of months' worth of correspondences. He stands up and stretches, mindlessly going through his routine of trying to force some of the tension out of his limbs.

  
  


The door out of the building squeaks on its rusty hinges, so different from the sleek metals of the city. The wind whips through Chan's hair the second he steps out, a little of the pressure relieved from his heart as the whole camp comes into view, illuminated by the permeating light of the cherry red sun overhead.

  
  


The landscape under and around them is flat and barren, with no sign of life as far as the eye can see, but only on the surface. If there's one thing Chan has learned in his time out here, it's that there's no preventing life from stubbornly clinging on and pushing its tendrils up through the scorched earth, and this place is testament to that.

  
  


The people living here were unashamed of their strange juxtaposition with the landscape, jutting above in asymmetrical buildings scraped together from debris. Movement hums through all corners of the place, separate in a way that belies their individuality yet all still connected by exactly that. Chan scans over the area, taking note of where Jeongin working on the trucks, Hyunjin target practicing as usual.

  
  


Chan's heart constricts in his chest when he finally catches sight of who he really wants to see. Jisung is laughing freely, a much more common sight these days, head tilted back with the sunlight dappling over his skin. The pull to him is like gravity, a law of the universe, one that Chan could never hope to disobey. He jogs over, knowing there's a stupid smile on his face, his concerns not forgotten but dimming in comparison to his priority.

  
  


Jisung catches sight of him and his laugh fades slowly into a calm smile, swinging his favorite metal bat off the ground and tapping it against Chan's thigh. “Hey, what's up?”

  
  


Chan collects his thoughts for a moment, getting a little more serious. “Just got a messenger. Everyone in the city's ready, the wall's defense system is down. It's time. We'll have to move, uh, wow, today or tomorrow.”

  
  


“What, really?”

  
  


Chan blinks, embarrassed to have not noticed at all Changbin sitting right next to Jisung. Oh, Minho's there too, sprawled back against the ledge with his long tail twitching idly around him. He shouldn't be surprised, he and Jisung have been pretty inseparable ever since they met, Minho who strutted around camp with his ears on display and sharp words for any newcomers who had something to say about it, and Jisung with his hoods and growing fire, from different cities yet closer than any neighbors.

  
  


“Changbin, you can spread the word, right? I know we were just talking to Seungmin about it.”

  
  


Changbin nods, brow furrowed, obviously settling into his work mode, his dedication something Chan's admired since he first met him as one of the most respected outlaws and founders of this camp.

  
  


Jisung's hand wraps around his wrist and Chan's attention snaps back to him immediately, searching his face. He can tell that Jisung wants to talk to him alone, and Minho can obviously tell too, glancing between them and smirking.

  
  


“I'll do my part, don't worry. I've been waiting for an opportunity to get in that place.” Minho pushes himself up and meeting Chan's eyes for a moment. “They won't know what hit them.” Chan takes the encouragement for what it is, nodding, and before he knows it, he and Jisung are alone again. They simply stare at each other for a moment, and Chan can see his own deepest thoughts reflected on Jisung's face, the exact copy of his confused mix of disbelief, relief, the spark of burning latent rage and determination deep inside.

  
  


Jisung glances left and right for prying eyes, fingers curling tighter around his wrist. Everyone in the camp might be trusted with this mission, but that's only because Chan knows they prioritize the downfall of the city more than their own motivations at the moment. What happens after their goal is met, however, is a different story, and he knows better than anyone else that loyalty can be faked.

  
  


“Come on,” Chan says softly, heading back towards the office. The door closes behind them and the quiet settles over them. The line of Jisung's shoulders is confident and unwavering, fingers fiddling with the strings of his hoodie.

  
  


“So this is really happening?” He knows already, just something to segue in, but Chan nods in confirmation anyway. Jisung sighs and leans back against the wall, eyes flitting around the room. “Gods, it doesn't feel real.”

  
  


“Yeah,” Chan says, quiet and simple. The first few months they were out here, Jisung's impatience grew day by day, chewing at the bit to get back into the city to make things right. The more time that passed, however, the more he got involved in the process and what exactly needed to be done, and the more he settled in to prepare. Obviously, Jisung has always been someone he can rely on, the only one, but now that he was out of that limiting environment, he had finally become to blossom. Only then did it really hit him that Jisung was the partner he'd always wished for in business as well as in all other areas of life. There was nothing that kept Chan going more than watching Jisung prove to himself and everyone he's met out here just how intelligent, strong, and capable he is.

  
  


They've talked about this day finally coming so much, for long hours into the night for months, that there's nothing really more to say, only a loaded silence. Their chests are pressed together, grounding themselves with simple touch and warmth. “Hey,” Jisung starts, tilting his head against the door. “We both know how much we have to do, but... can we take some time tonight for us? Just in case... I mean, who knows what might happen tomorrow.”

  
  


Chan swallows, eyes closing. He knows what could happen tomorrow, of course he does, he runs the possible risks over in his mind dozens of times to make sure every possible route has the bumps hammered out, but it never gets easier. It's not just the past six months that they've been preparing for this, it's decades, their whole lives, built on the stepping stones of the efforts of everyone that came before them. “Of course. I'll look forward to it,” he says, stroking a thumb over Jisung's cheekbone.

  
  


Jisung huffs and taps his bat against the wall behind him, smiling softly. “Yeah, I know you will.”

  
  


“Can you blame me? I love you,” Chan says, grinning.

  
  


Jisung rolls his eyes and pushes him away by the center of his chest, but he's smiling too. “Ok, ok, hotshot. We have a lot to do.”

  
  


Chan nods, straightening his jacket collar and already slipping into his mind and categorizing everyone that needs to be contacted, all the cogs that need to be checked up on in order to turn smoothly. Jisung opens the door, stepping down once before turning around and grabbing the front of his shirt, dragging him down to kiss him deep, gone before Chan can savor it. “Love you too.”

  
  


Chan stands there and sighs as he watches him go, as he casually interacts with the outlaws hanging around the camp, looking so heart-stoppingly beautiful and deadly framed by the blood-red setting sun. As long as they pull this off tomorrow, they'll be ok. Everything might not be perfect, there'll definitely still be an exhausting amount of work to do, but there will be no more time bomb hanging over their head.

  
  


The thought of another chance at happiness, not only for them, but for everyone else around them and those in the future, spurs Chan back into action. He disappears back into his office, getting to work.

  
  


*

  
  


The sun dips low and so does Chan's head, losing a gradual battle against the exhaustion and pain building behind his eyes at all the reading and examining he's been doing. He's spent every second of the past few hours crunching for time with everyone around the camp, going over every element of their plan dozens of times. They've been at this for so long that the penultimate day started to feel years away, and the atmosphere around the camp has been tense and quiet, leagues from the usual boisterous energy.

  
  


His head shoots up at the light knock at the door, blinking before relaxing as Jisung slips inside. “Hey,” he murmurs, stepping over to Chan and resting hands on his shoulders, kneading down. His hood's off, bright hair mussed and ears flopping down over his face.

  
  


Chan gets up, stretching the ache from his limbs and gently pulling Jisung along to his familiar cramped bedroom, more than good enough for the two of them. They sit down on the thin mattress, Jisung tugging his hoodie over his head and mussing his hair even more, a little squeak escaping him. Chan smiles and tugs down his shirt that's ridden up above his soft stomach before his thoughts turn back to the next penultimate day. “Are you sure you and Minho are ready for tomorrow?”

  
  


Jisung runs his fingers through his hair and tugs off his loose pants, nodding. “Believe me, we're more than. As long as Seungmin manages to take out the security systems and the guns, we'll have no problem getting into the labs and houses. Gods, I'm looking forward to taking out those guards.”

  
  


Chan can see his hungry little smirk at the idea as Jisung leans forward and starts unbuttoning his shirt, leaning back to give him better access. Honestly, Chan doesn't want them to be separated again especially so soon and in such a risky situation, but he trusts him. Plus, Jisung beats him in practice fights a third of the time now, and Minho can more than hold his own.

  
  


He nods, breathing out and placing his own hands over Jisung's as they slip off his shirt. He flops back against the bed, opening his arms. Jisung slips into them, weighing down his chest in a way that only serves to make him feel secure and comforted.

  
  


Most nights, they drift off to sleep just like this, warm and wrapped together and more than grateful for that. Tonight, however, Jisung props his chin on his folded arms on Chan's chest, blinking up at him with wide eyes. He's so gorgeous that Chan is still in disbelief that he gets to be so close to him with nothing in between, his soft hair falling in waves over his forehead along with his velvety soft floppy ears, the healing aftermath of a scratch on his cheek from a recent brawl.

  
  


“What are you thinking?” Chan murmurs, carding his fingers through his soft hair, taking care not to brush over his ears too much.

  
  


Jisung tilts his head to the side. “We really don't know what's going to happen tomorrow. And we'll definitely succeed, I mean, but... I don't want to have any regrets, just in case.”

  
  


Chan's heart pounds, aching with how much he loves this boy. He clears his throat, stroking gently over Jisung's bottom lip. “What are you asking for, Ji?” _I would give you anything_ , he wants to say.

  
  


Jisung's gaze flickers away from his eyes. “Chan, uh... can you make love to me, please? I want to know what it could feel like.”

  
  


Chan's heart breaks a little, hands spreading across Jisung's back and hugging him tight. “I would be honored to.” He thumbs over Jisung's reddening cheeks, smiling helplessly. He's never seen him like this before. What he's asking to hasn't even settled in yet. The times they've touched in this camp have always been cautious and exploratory, sans that one time that Jisung had his opportunity to experiment with taking Chan apart and practically sending him to heaven.

  
  


Chan had never held the expectation that Jisung would ever let him see him so vulnerable, and the implicit trust of it weighs heavy in his heart. Instead of burdening him, it opens something in his heart and sets it free, filling him up with pure buoyancy. He's going to use this to pour every inch of what he feels into Jisung, try and get it to him just how much every part of him is loved unconditionally. “Tell me if I make you uncomfortable at all, please?”

  
  


Jisung nods, making eye contact again, shoulders a little more relaxed. “I promise. Just don't touch my tail and I think it'll be fine. You can maybe try my ears?”

  
  


Chan stares at him, taking him in with awe and adoration, slowly reaching out to pet through his hair at first, fingers gently making contact with the base of his ears. The fur is silky and so soft under his fingertips, and Chan watches Jisung's face carefully, the way his nose twitches and eyes fall shut. “That... that's nice. Just don't tug.”

  
  


“You're so beautiful, you know that?” spills from Chan's lips as he pushes himself up on his elbows, continuing to lightly pet over Jisung's rabbit ears.

  
  


Jisung rolls off Chan's chest and flat onto the bed, pulling Chan on top of him and smiling against his lips, the heat on his cheeks radiating between them. Both on their sides, their legs tangle together, exchanging slow and soft kisses for a few long moments. “C'mon, Channie, we don't have all night,” Jisung says softly. He stares up at Chan, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. “I just... don't want to think about those fuckers when doing something like this.”

  
  


“I'll do my best,” Chan responds, firm and more of his conviction evident in his voice than he had realized. Gods, it's been so long in general, though. He's been with a couple people in the past, but his goal has never been to enjoy it, only to advance his place in the city and make connections. He starts out in safe, familiar territory, slipping his palms under the hem of Jisung's shirt and warming his cold fingertips against his skin. He gently feels over his sides, the firmness of where he's filled out with muscle and fat from his new substantial diet.

  
  


Jisung hums low in the back of his throat and lifts his arms over his head, letting Chan tug his shirt over his head and drink in the sight of him safe and warm and wrapped up in his bed and arms. He's got a few bruises on his torso and arms from the amount of times he challenges everyone around the camp to fight him, insisting he's learning something with every win or loss. He takes a certain sort of pride in them, in the allowance of his body being his to use as he sees fit and not preserved for the viewing judgment of others.

  
  


Personally, Chan thinks he's the coolest person he's ever met. He kisses over the bruised skin softly, running his hands up and digging them into his sides for a second to hear Jisung's desperate giggles and the way he squirms away, reaching down to stop the tickling. Chan muffles his laugh with his mouth again, pressing their bare chest together. Despite how little time they have, there's no sense of urgency, no pressure to be anything they're not, the tension between them the comfortable, slow hearth fire of sensuality.

  
  


Chan hovers over Jisung on his elbows, his arms wrapped around his waist. There's something addicting in the contact of their bare skin against each other, stronger than he's ever felt before. Escalating it is as comfortable as everything else they do together, soft and gradual, hands roaming and exploring each other's bodies anew. The last pieces of fabric on them get tossed away, their legs tangling together again bare.

  
  


He inhales into Jisung's mouth as their hips connect, both halfway to hard and brushing up against each other on every press. “Channie,” Jisung pants into his mouth, hands dipping down to boldly grab his ass. “Come on, I want you.”

  
  


Chan squeaks into his mouth, pulling away a little bit. “Uh, wait. Do I need anything?”

  
  


Jisung laughs, a little bit tinged with melancholy, but shakes his head, pressing their bodies closer. “No. Believe me, everything was thought of. I was made for this.” Chan distracts himself from how much that fuels the simmering fire inside of him by focusing on what's important, the way Jisung is looking at him.

  
  


Chan raises himself on his knees, chest already moving more rapidly with his breath. He licks his lips and places his hands on Jisung's thighs, skin feeling tight and hot as he drinks in the visual ocean that he is. His skin is so honey-smooth, his dark eyes sparkling in the low light as he stares up at Chan with implicit trust. His dick lays in the crease of his hip, pretty and proportioned just so that Chan aches to find out what Jisung sounds like with it in his mouth.

  
  


First order of things, though, he turns his attention to the way his legs fall apart under his touch. His lips trace a trail along the sensitive skin of Jisung's thighs as his hands slide higher along the backs of them, taking note of what makes him shudder under him. There's so much to look at, but his eyes keep flickering back up to his face, imprinting every one of his new expressions into his memory. “You still feel okay?” he asks, fingers brushing back and rubbing gently over Jisung's perineum.

  
  


Jisung blinks up at him slowly with half-lidded eyes, one corner of his lips pulling up. “Yeah. You're so gentle. You don't have to be, I know it's you.”

  
  


Chan answers with another kiss pressed to the jut of his hip, fearing that if he opens his mouth, nothing but more utterly sappy shit will spill out about how he wants to worship every inch of Jisung as if he were a god, except he's better than a god, the calluses on his hands and fire of his emotions proving him more worthy of respect than any perfectly divine being.

  
  


His fingers press back between his legs, rubbing lightly over the tight furl of muscle there. His eyes flick down to watch, face burning as he stares at the too-perfect pink skin, beads of clear fluid starting to leak out. It's warm against the very pads of his fingers, his breath catching in his chest as he glances back up at Jisung. “Can I taste?”

  
  


Jisung's mouth parts, leg twitching in his hold. “Yeah, yeah, go ahead. No one's actually done that to me before.”

  
  


Oh, Chan is more than happy to change that. He can't hold back his ravenous expression, gently holding Jisung's legs up around his hips and dragging a rough pillow over to prop his hips up, finally diving in. Jisung naturally smells so good, vaguely floral and always clear and clean, warmth radiating off of his skin. Chan starts with the crease of his thigh, teasing the delicate skin under his tongue and just a hint of teeth. The little sigh that escapes him from above is so incredibly satisfying, spurring him on even more.

  
  


His tongue trails over the crease of his ass, collecting a drop of clear slick on his tongue. Oh. It's sweet but earthy, light, though he would still do this to make Jisung feel good no matter what it was like. Chan's eyes flutter closed as he dives in, dragging the flat of his tongue slow over his hole. Jisung actually moans, thighs shuddering and closing around his waist, hands flying down to tangle in his hair. Chan thinks he could do this forever, knowing how he's affecting the person he loves the most, relishing in the little responses under him and how warm and good Jisung's skin feels on his tongue.

  
  


He swirls his tongue in circles with firm pressure around him, pressing the tip of his tongue against his opening until it pushes in just a little, hands still gentle on his ass as he drags his tongue in and out. Saliva and slick smear against his chin, running down Jisung's thighs as he makes sweet little huffs and quiet moans above him, not exaggerated at all. Chan pulls himself up, missing being able to watch Jisung's expressions, replacing his tongue with a couple of his cautiously prodding fingertips.

  
  


Jisung is resplendent like this, lips parted and wet, one of the tips of his ears caught in his mouth. Chan moves higher, cupping his cheeks. “Okay?”

  
  


Jisung hums, yanking him closer. “You make me feel so fucking good, baby.” His voice is so warm with a touch of rasp, and god, Chan's in love. He brightens at the affirmation, leaning in to meet Jisung's kiss, the sweet taste passing between them. Now they're getting into territory Chan's not as experienced with, fingers still hesitantly prodding and massaging around him to get him relaxed.

  
  


“Can you show me what you like?”

  
  


Jisung reaches down between them, wrapping his fingers around Chan's wrist. “We'll figure it out together?”

  
  


Chan swallows and nods, looking down at their hands together, letting Jisung's callused skin against him push one finger in, slipping in ridiculously easy with the amount he's leaking. “That's nice,” Jisung hums, eyes half-lidded, as he guides Chan's hand back and forth. The last vestiges of hesitance melt away from Chan now that Jisung has more control, eyes locked in a moment of silence as Jisung feels out what angle he likes best. “Another,” he breathes out, and Chan happily complies, gulping. He's so impossibly hot and tight inside against his fingers, practically sucking him in with the dirty squelch of his slick spilling out of him and over his fingers.

  
  


Jisung seems to find the right angle and moans soft, head falling back against the bed and exposing the long line of his pretty neck, hips moving back and practically fucking himself back on Chan's hand, using it to take control of his own pleasure. “Chan, I've never-” Jisung gasps in, his eyes fluttering open and closed. “I've never felt like this, never wanted it this bad, give it to me please-”

  
  


“Shh, sweetheart, I've got you,” Chan murmurs, leaning down to kiss gently down the center of his chest, lips pressed inches away from his fluttering heart. “I'm all yours.”

  
  


The words make Jisung whine low in his throat, removing his hand from Chan's wrist and legs spilling apart even more invitingly. “C'mon Chan, I'm ready, I promise.”

  
  


Chan crawls up over him, kissing him like he's transferring all of his most tender thoughts into Jisung's mind there to stay. He pulls back to just look at him, feeling like his chest is a conduit for the last vestiges of energy from the sun. He gathers one of Jisung's hands in his, lacing their fingers together to ground himself and laying them against the sheets together. He presses another confession of love to Jisung's lips, feather-soft, bare bodies shifting together.

  
  


Jisung reaches down between them again to join Chan's other hand, craning his neck up to catch a glimpse of what's going on as he guides them together. Chan's breath is stuck in his chest as he wraps their hands around his cock, sparks of pleasure rushing through him at how sensitive he is. It's unbelievably more as he guides himself between Jisung's legs, closer to his heat, teeth digging into his bottom lip as the head slips in the slick leaking out of him.

  
  


Both of them make a helpless noise as Chan steadies himself and starts to push in again right on target. Oh, gods, it feels like he just gets sucked all the way in, hips twitching forward helplessly as his face screws up at the force of it, Jisung's fingers squeezing around his hand. His breath comes out in a wheeze with the sheer pressure and warmth rippling all around him, but he blinks through it, focusing on the most important thing.

  
  


“Still okay?”

  
  


Jisung laughs, low and throaty, eyes rolling back down to stare at him. “I'm good, baby. Try moving?”

  
  


Chan nods, swallowing as he leans down to settle his face in the crook of Jisung's neck, anchoring his knees on the bed and slowly rolling his hips forward, little bit by bit. Jisung's other hand reaches around to clutch at his back, little noises pushed out of his throat. There's no overwhelming urge to go fast and hard like Chan had pictured, just a burning heat lit in his blood, overwhelming him just a little bit more every moment.

  
  


Jisung's hand on his back pulls him down, nosing near his face. “Channie, kiss me,” he says, voice wavering. Chan is more than happy to oblige, and the kiss is heated for a moment before it slows down, still just as intense. Jisung's nails dig into the backs of his hands, and Chan feels the wetness on his cheeks not from saliva or sweat, pulling back and stilling, alarmed.

  
  


“Ji, what's wrong?”

  
  


Jisung is still smiling softly through the tears running down his cheeks, reaching up to poke at the panicked frown on Chan's face. “Shh, don't worry. I just... I've never felt like this before,” he sucks in a breath, ghosting his fingers over Chan's face. “It's good, it's good, keep going.”

  
  


Chan nods slowly, even more resolute in his determination to cherish him. He thumbs the tears off of Jisung's cheeks, who stares at him for a moment before grabbing hold of his back and rolling them over, still connected, onto their sides. They're intertwined together, every inch of their bodies pressed together or inside, nowhere else to go except closer. There's a hint of desperation, sure, but they would never let that overpower what they have here, a celebration of the achievement they've had in simply being together.

  
  


“Touch me,” Jisung murmurs into the tiny space between them, words hanging in the air.

  
  


Something is building up in Chan from the inside, about to explode, and he can't tell if it's love or desperation or arousal or anxiety for the future or a mix of all of that. There's barely any space between them, legs slung over each other as they lazily move against each other, but Chan still manages to get a hand between them, glancing down at the way Jisung's dick looks while fit through the circle of his fist, the head slipping in and out of the small space.

  
  


His other hand comes up to card his fingers through Jisung's hair, gently testing out stroking over his velvety ears again. The air around them is growing hotter, the pleasure building until it's nearly overwhelming. Jisung licks into his mouth, just as sweet as the rest of him, clutching Chan close to him and instinctively bucking up into his fist and back down on his dick sliding out of him. He squeezes his hand hard as his breath hitches and his hips jerk, spilling all over Chan's fist and squeezing around him like a vice. His face is more beautiful than anything else, though, portraying a flash of all the good things Chan's always wanted to give to him.

  
  


Jisung winces with oversensitivity and Chan pulls out, holding him close to kiss him. Jisung pushes him flat against the bed again and wraps a hand around him in turn, gripping tight and slick over him. Really, all Chan needs is the knowledge that they're both here and safe for now, wrapped up in their little cocoon of a world where everything is too good for just a few hours before reality sets in again. It finally takes him over, keeping his eyes open to watch Jisung's deep brown eyes as he falls over the edge, body pulsing with waves of pleasure intertwining with the pounding of his heart.

  
  


They lay there for a moment, breathing in each other's space, simply observing. It feels like there'll never be enough time to make up for how much they've always ached to simply be with each other, look at each other and know that the other is there. Jisung's eyes sparkle as he raises their clasped hands, idly moving them along together for the reassurance. “Thank you,” he murmurs softly, already relaxed, eyes falling lower and hands falling back towards the bed.

  
  


A beat of silence grows longer than Chan would like as he tries to figure out how to word everything he wants to say, how much this boy means to him. He can only hope what he feels is conveyed through his eyes, inching forward to press a little kiss to Jisung's nose, his closed eyelids, his cheeks, smiling at the huff of laughter that gets him.

  
  


It feels like, as they drift to sleep like this, they'll wake up and open their eyes to a place where this happiness can last forever. As it is, they'll have to build that happiness brick by brick.

  
  


Still, if the world truly ends tomorrow, Chan thinks this would have been the best place to end on, safe for now with the one he loves the most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sigh not totally satisfied with this chap but oh well 😔 😔 im still rly proud of this fic!!
> 
> [fic update twt](http://twitter.com/mysticetic)   
>  [main](http://twitter.com/orca_mandaeru)

**Author's Note:**

> if i dont get the 2nd chap up in the next couple weeks feel free to yell at me on twt lol itll just be some timeskip soft smut
> 
> pls tell me if there's anything i need to tag!
> 
> [fic update twt](http://twitter.com/mysticetic)
> 
> [main](http://twitter.com/orca_mandaeru)


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